I ran along the garden path, wishing I’d brought my camera. The grasses bowed, shimmered, almost glowed in the early morning light. I moved slowly, my run half walk, each step dragging the weight of my heart. There are times it’s tempting to pull the covers over your head and skip the day.
I’ve always disliked decisions. Every day seems to hold a million or so, and I struggle with most of them, so anything that might help with that process—well, bring it on. I was praying through several yesterday afternoon and stumbled across a question that clarified them all: “What does love look
I step out the back door. The sun should have risen by now but who can tell? The world feels heavy as thick grey presses low against us. I’m wearing my too-close-to-orange running shirt and black bottoms and this day feels too much like a shivery Halloween night. A crow
I’d been desperate to escape the night-and-day noise of the city outside my window, the pain of metal-on-metal of nearby construction, so I ran last week on wooded trails where I met only spiders who’d slung their silk across the path while the world slept, heard only songbirds celebrating the new